


Functions Check

by Gamin Assassin (hellkitty)



Category: Aliens (1986)
Genre: F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/Gamin%20Assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LOL I can't write human porn to save my life. AS you will soon discover.  Nonetheless. human porn. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Functions Check

“Drake.”

“Shut up.” The scar by the side of his left eye twitched, his hands hard on her shoulders, pushing her back against the worktable. His hands were rough, their skin chapped and chafing down her arms.

Any other man, and Vasquez would have kneed his groin, slammed a fist into his jaw. But this was Drake. A world of meaning, past associations, history, understanding, crammed into that one syllable.

She felt the growl as much as heard it, the hands finding the canvas webbing of her belt, jerking at it impatiently. Drake’s face buried itself against her belly: she could feel the warmth of his breath through the rough cottonester of her shirt. His mouth worked in a frantic kiss against the flat muscled plane through the worn fabric. Harsh lights from the armory caught in his blond hair, the almost-fur of his forearms, as he finally succeeded in unclasping the belt, ripping the button fly of her uniform trousers open in one sharp gesture.

He gave a guttural sound, as his hands pushed the trousers over the silky olive skin of her hips, palms slightly damp with desire, juddering over her suddenly-bared flesh. His teeth caught a wrinkle of her undergarment, the pragmatic black cotton, his mouth curling in a feral grin, blue eyes lidded as he tugged backward, settling down to his knees. His calloused thumbs rode over her hipbones, sliding under the waistband, easing them down.

A long moment, a sucked intake of breath, and he leaned forward, as if tasting her scent.

“Don’t have time for this,” Vasquez said. Even as her hands hooked on his shoulders, she knew she wasn’t going to push him away. And more, she knew he knew it.

“Make time.” His deep voice vibrated against her thighs, hand sliding between them, pushing them apart. “War can fucking wait.” He tipped forward, one hand splayed against her belly, bracing her against the worktable, his other hand sliding between her thighs, seeking the heat he knew he’d already find there. His mouth followed suit, nuzzling into the soft musky nest of her close-cropped hair.

Her hands gripped the cool metal edge of the worktable, breath hissing between her teeth as she felt the warm probe of his tongue. He gave a vibrating sound, half purr, half growl, the hand on her belly sliding behind, gripping around her backside, squeezing the hard knot of muscle, holding her fast.

“Drake,” she managed, rocking forward, curling around him till the thick waves of his blond hair, almost a fleece, tickled her stomach.

A louder, answering growl, and he shoved her thighs farther apart, eyes closing. He scraped his teeth against the tender flesh, tongue searching up the narrow slit, finding the hot little nub of flesh, sucking it into his mouth with a feral laugh as Vasquez’s fist pounded on his shoulder.

A rush of heat and wetness, her entire body shivering around him. This was how Drake liked it. Another man might use this as foreplay, get her excited, heated, riled, and then take her, but Drake…this is how Drake wanted it. He got off on the power, on making her dance, trembling, with the tiniest movement of the tip of his tongue.

His hands tightened on her, sinking into the muscled flesh of her thighs, her hips, pinning her back, the tempo of the flicks of his tongue on the swollen red node speeding up, relentless. She would have cursed at him, would have sworn, raw hard imprecations, but she was too busy gasping for breath, her knuckles white on the table’s edge.

She tried a curse, but the word shattered as he nipped down on the nub of flesh, the sudden shock of pain rocketing her over the edge. Her body spasmed, thighs clamping around his broad shoulders, the coarse hair of his arms against the satin of her thighs. He gripped around her hips, grinding against the rise of her pubic bone, eyes unlidding, the blue irises peering up the length of her taut body, the snug olive drab of her uniform undershirt, into the dark pools of her own eyes.

She could feel the pull of his mouth, curling into a smile, his teeth releasing her, with one last, possessive lick, before he straightened seeming to ride the nap of her body until his mouth found hers. She could taste the thinnish sweet salt of her own lust, smell the faint musk, as he levered her mouth open in a hungry kiss, that followed him as he stood, till that ended, him bent over her, hands still locked around her hips.

“Fucking beautiful,” he whispered, the words redolent with her own arousal, his deep voice vibrating between them.

“Fuck you, Drake,” she retorted, eyes hardening, her hands finding his, pushing them aside to tug up her trousers.

“Mmmm,” he gave a soft chuckle, buttoning up her trousers with long practice, the worn fabric soft and familiar under his rough hand. “Like it better this way.”


End file.
